On Warriors and Darkness
by Psalm 136
Summary: A series of drabbles on various characters. Not every character is as angelic and noble as they seem on the surface. I own nothing. Read and review, if you please. AU some departures from Tolkien's canon.
1. Not the Angelic Prince

On Warriors and Darkness

Psalm 136

Legolas let an arrow fly, effectively slaying another monstrous Orc that had threatened his countrymen. His normally clear and unburdened blue eyes were dark and clouded with hate. How dare these creatures invade their land and try to destroy what was good? He growled and unsheathed his twin daggers. He turned to his archers.

"Attack!" Legolas ordered, as they leapt from the trees of their home. "Take the flanks!"

He felt a sick sort of pleasure as he sliced open an Orc's throat. He found satisfaction in seeing the dead being fall at his feet. He delighted in seeing Orc blood spill to the earth. The "high" never wore off as the battle raged on. If anything it increased.

Hours later, after the battle had been won, the grim Prince relcined in his personal rooms, cleaning his blades. He grieved for the loss of elven life, but he could only sneer when he thought all the Orcs he had slain that day. His blood rushed with pleasure.

Legolas stood up and walked over to his shelf. He slid his blades into their sheaths and let his fingers run over the leather. Elleths and even other ellons who had not seen him in battle perceived him to be perfect and above such emotions. True, he was a prince, but he was also a warrior. Such perverse pleasure ran through him and he delighted in what he was, not who he was supposed to be.


	2. Born to be King

Born to be King

Psalm 136

They told him he was to be King. His mind boggled with the thought. Why should he be a king? Didn't anyone see he was no greater than the rest of his king? But that was not even his entire argument.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur, was afraid. His fear grew from insecurity, which grew from his own doubt of his strength of will. What could one man do? He had long since lost faith in his blood. His actions could never leave behind the hope that is given for the world to feel alive.

Their eyes were closed. Hope had long since fled. But why did he still fight? Why didn't he flee?

He was honestly a very selfish man. He fought, believing one day, maybe, Elrond would allow him to marry Arwen. Sure, he did say he wished her to sail, but no man was that noble. In his heart, he knew his grief would kill him if she left, but below that selfishness, there was something that told him to let her go.

Aragorn had spent his whole life running. Could he outrun destiny? He was bent on it, but no man is that fast. He was born to be King.


	3. Lay It Down For Love

Lay it Down for Love

Psalm 136

Two warriors fell from grace into darkness and hell. The one woman they loved so desperately and so purely was killed by evil. Their devastation was endless, but they hid it cleverly behind a mask of anger and rage. Their blue eyes, once so playful and cheerful, were dark and filled with an emotion they could never hope to describe, but neither did they want to. Their anger gave them a way to escape from the painful reality their mother was gone.

Elladan and Elrohir wandered the lands with one purpose and one purpose alone: to kill Orcs. Their hearts were set on and none, not even their father, could stop them from returning to the wild. They gave no thought to danger or fear of death. In their rage, there was no place for fear.

The twins took all they could from the Orcs, their lives, trying to find satiation for the endless want for blood. Perhaps somewhere in their hearts, they thought that if they destroyed the killers, their mother would return to them. It was a naïve thought, but they couldn't move past their pain.

Soon, their killings of Orcs almost became a suicide attempt. They would take on groups of Orcs bigger than thirty. The wounds they accumulated were life-threatening, but the sight of their own blood almost felt good, that their blood was compensating for the blood that would have been shed if they had not killed the Orcs.

One night, they came upon a horrible scene. Rangers dead all around them and Arathorn was dead with an arrow through his eyes. Gilraen lay not far off. Elladan and Elrohir were consumed by their grief and shook with rage. This was it. They would kill every Orc on Middle Earth and they would not return until they had.

Elrohir's keen ears picked up a sound of a sob, and he found an dead Orc laying on top of a baby, but not killing it. He pushed the body off the small being and picked him up. He could tell just by looking into the child's eyes that he was Arathorn's son. He shushed the child and walked over to his brother.

"We must take him to Ada." The twins nodded to one another and then rode to Rivendell.

They had found a brother. They laid down their weapons for the most part, to care for their new sibling. Estel, they named him, and waited for him to grow to take up his destiny. All the while, they watched over him and protected him, ready to spring if danger reared its ugly head at their brother.


	4. Winter Ice

Winter Ice

Psalm 136

Cheeks as pale as melting winter, eyes as sharp as ice's edge, such were her descriptions. But Eowyn of Rohan was not always so cold. She had once been a vibrant young girl, bound to do all the things little girls did. She annoyed her brother and simply lived the life she had been given to live. Then her mother and father died, leaving her and her brother alone in the world. Though she had her uncle, it was no good. The once vibrant girl closed up, and became a stolid woman.

Her every move was watched by Grima Wormtongue. How he disgusted her. His words chilled her to the core and she felt as if he would be at every turn in the hallways. She was haunted, and she would sit up into the dead hours of the night, holding herself. It was still winter in her wonderland.

She was afraid it had been too long to try the reasons why her world had closed around her. Her spirit had grown beyond the walls to where she'd never been. She was waiting for the world to fall, for the scene to change, so that things might change. She wanted to see the world unbroken, under the layers of evil and foulness.

Then Eowyn met Aragorn. He was everything she had wished in a man, except she could see in her eyes his heart belonged to a lady in a distant land. Though that did not stop her trying, she was disappointed in the end, and closed up further. She made a decision. It was her time to fight.

The war came, the battle was fought, and the day was won. Sauron had been vanquished. She was still as cold as winter's ice, and only a broken-hearted man could thaw her soul. His love pulled her from the winter, and brought her into a glorious spring.


	5. Shadow

Shadow

Psalm 136

Faramir lived a life of fear. As he grew from a toddler and as the years passed from his mother's death, he learned to keep his eyes to the ground and to bow even deeper than servants. He felt isolated from other boys his age. He never could fit in, but perhaps that was all right.

He drew nearer to his brother. Boromir was his pillar when he couldn't stand on his own. He shed more tears that most people did in a lifetime before he turned twenty, and his brother was what kept him alive. Without his brother, his soul would have withered away years before. Without his brother, he would given up and stopped battling to love himself.

But he couldn't. Faramir despised himself. He loathed his life and who he was. His father hated him, and he learned to hate himself as well. The very worst things he thought and believed about himself were echoed by the one man who should be protecting himself from that evil and it tore him even more, until he was left in shreds.

Though he was a great captain, inspirational to every single one of his men, he never could be confident. He trembled with fear before going into battle, thinking one action of his would cause the death of many. That something he did would cause disaster and everything his father had told him would become true.

The War of the Ring came and went, and the next thing he knew, he was under the watchful eyes of many healers. He suffered because he had to sit still for days and days. He had to stay in bed when all he wanted was to walk around and get some fresh air.

Faramir finally escaped the hawk eyes of the healers and walked outside into the cold night. He draped his cloak across his shoulders and looked up at the bright night sky. When he brought his eyes back down to normal level, he saw the most enchanting sight his eyes had ever seen.

It was a blonde woman, sitting on a bench, her eyes averted to the ground. She looked so sad, and he felt this immediate soul connection to her. He didn't understand it, but it simply became apart of him. He had no idea that this was only the beginnings and roots of love.


	6. A Father's Love

I watched him when he was a child. I did not and could not imagine that one day he would indeed grow up and take his place. Even at a mere twenty years old, I could see his fear and shame. What he was ashamed of, I still do not know. I was his father and healer, his protector and his teacher, and I tried to shield him. Like his father, he would not be shielded. He would forever remain a mystery, though I knew him intimately. He was my son; what was to be expected?

I never thought he'd love her. I never thought I would have to part with two of the greatest gifts I had ever been given. But I did. I saw the love in his eyes and the anguish in hers for me to let go and let them love each other. I have never been helpless, save four times. The first was when Elros left me to die. The second was when Isildur would not cast the Ring aside. The third was when my wife finally returned to be, battered and scarred in ways I could not heal her. The fourth was letting go of a son and a daughter.

What is right and what hurts is often the same thing.

As I watch him hold her hand delicately in his own as they glide across the floor as husband and wife, I am at peace and content to see their love and know. Know they are safe and they are together. I will not diminish from grief, for I have a wife to return to soon.


	7. Payment For Sins

This is my second attempt at Faramir. My first one isn't satisfactory to my standards anymore, so I hope this one is up to par. Thanks to my reviewers who have commented on it.

_Linelinelinelinelinelinelineline_

Faramir watched the night sky with great intent, though he was safe and warm inside, and the danger of his travels were outside. He shivered as memories of seeing two of his fellow soldiers fall that night. They were to be buried at dawn and he had not yet come to terms with their passing. He never would be able to come to terms when life was lost. His soul was of poetry and a mournful lament came to his lips, but it passed into the world as a sigh.

Cool, comforting hands found their ways to his shoulders as his wife massaged his worries away for a moment. He leaned in to her touch, but his hand was still on his sword that was leaning against the wall. Eowyn's ministrations stopped and her hand covered his. He looked down at her pale hand touching his tanned, calloused, Ranger's hand. He sighed.

"I cannot let go of the battle." He whispered.

"You do not have to." She replied. She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Just sleep, my husband."

Faramir shook his head. "I will stay here for a while. Sleep, love." He watched her return to their bed and he turned back to the night to pray for his friends' souls and hope for some comfort of his sins.


	8. Once a Great King

He was once a king of men. He was once great. His spirit was still strong, not thriving, but not dying. He was not alive, but not dead, and it was a strain. He could almost feel the chains of deceit and malice that laced his very self. He was no longer a man and he despised the great men and women that were rising from the ashes of Middle-Earth to take their places among the great. The ring he had once worn had defined his place, but he had fallen from that grace.

How he hated Sauron. He hated him with every part of him, but he was nothing but a slave to his will anymore. He knew they were terrified of him, and he cackled with an evil power, even though he also knew that he served a master whom he hated. He was the Lord of the Nazgul, and he would have given the sick pleasure he drew from killing for the peace he so deserved.

As Eowyn's arm descended down, bringing a sword with it, piercing his soul, he shrieked. The shriek was not of anger, not of pain, not of fear. The shriek was one of relief. He had been released from his oath and he was free to seek mercy from Eru for his sins.


	9. A True Man of Rohan

Eomer was not a man of any certain pattern. At times he was rough and gruff, very distant from the emotions of others. At other times, he was truly a man. He could stand as tall as Meduseld, and yet cower like a small child, whether others could see it or not. He could fight like a beast; yet grieve like a woman losing her husband. He reveled in his unpredictability and used it to his advantage when protecting his beloved Rohan, though he truly wasn't protecting the land. He was protecting Eowyn.

Eomer had been abandoned by his parents. Some may say they could not control their deaths, but that is beside the point. He was left in the world with a decaying uncle and a sister to shield from slimy worms and those who would harm her, but in his efforts, he failed miserably. She became as cold and hard as a stone in the wintertime. He watched her retreat into herself and he longed to hold her close and not let anything harm her, but being thrown out of Meduseld did not help matters.

Eomer was a soldier, but at heart, he was simply a man stretching himself over all those he loved. He was exhausted, and only a certain maiden from Dol Amroth could heal all grievances. Did he expect it? Of course not. He hardly wanted her help, but she quickly beat him into submission. I suppose men are at their best when they are husbands, under the loving care and control of a beautiful wife.


	10. The Dwarf and His Axe

_Thanks to Nieriel Raina for previewing this chapter for me._

Gimli thought he knew all he needed about the elves. He saw them as a people of arrogance and pride, quick to anger and slow to forgiveness and too uptight to enjoy the things of life that only mortals understood. They held themselves too far above everyone else in a way that was not simply because of their physical advantage. He hated them with a force only dwarves could.

He was proven to be right. Legolas Thranduilion was a menace in his own right. He paraded his archery skills around like he was something special. Now, Gimli was never one to deny talent, but the elf was like a little child strutting about with a toy that he had and no other child had. His temper was decidedly short whenever the elf tossed his blonde head around the dwarf.

But something happened as grief threatened to overcome the Fellowship of nine. Some would later declare that they came to a standstill, but Gimli would forever deny this, and say the elf was finally beaten down and begged for a truce. Legolas, of course, would deny this and give his own account of the day. The beginnings of their friendship seemed rocky at best, and few could have the foresight to even predict that the prejudice and hatred would evolve into something so beautiful the light of Valinor could not compare. Battles were fought and won, battles were fought and lost, and losses were sustained with courage, and triumphs were carried with great pride. Throughout all, Gimli stood by Legolas with pride and his ax to lean on.

Gimli never expected to be civil to the elf, nor even like him. He would have laughed if asked if he thought he would come to love Legolas as a brother. But it didn't matter what he expected or thought or dreamt. The fact of the matter is that Gimli and Legolas threw away their pride and would have given up their lives for each other. Gimli didn't have to say what was on his mind; Legolas knew it already. He didn't have to voice his opinion; Legolas could recite what it was from the top of his head. Gimli would be there for the pointy-eared princeling and Legolas would be there for the short, bearded dwarf.


	11. Elf King

He was not an evil king. He was not a bad king. He was stern and strict, as just and upright as a king should be. He was an unmovable symbol of his country of Eryn Lasgalen. He was their courage and their leader, determined to save them or death take him. His dark eyes were filled with the sorrow and age of his many years, and with greater loss than anyone should know. His heart ached every time he stepped out of his study into the halls, past the gardens, into his chambers. Every single thing in Greenwood reminded him of his wife. It cut him too deeply to even think about her, but he quietly sustained his wounds and bled in the cold of the night that reigned over him with such a hold.

Thranduil knew his son grieved as well, and knew Legolas was not so different from himself, but it was too different. He had lost a wife, the only elleth he had ever opened his heart up to love. He would never love again. The walls around his heart had been erected once more and he was driven. He was only driven. He couldn't afford emotion because emotion was what caused him all this pain in the first place. His only sin was he did not know where the line between being an elf, being a king and being a father was. His son suffered because of it, cutting Thranduil once again.

The vicious cycle continued. The Undying Lands were the only healing balm left for his soul. He prayed to the Valar that it would indeed heal him or he would fade.


	12. The Tenth Walker

It was said that the Fellowship was comprised of nine members: two men, four hobbits, one wizard, one elf, and one dwarf. The story goes that they battled their way through all obstacles to defeat Sauron. There is much truth to this, yet the storytellers are all liars by omission. There were not nine Fellowship members. There were ten. The tenth member was a silent one, bearing the burden of their quest on his strong back, plodding along for there was nowhere else to go. He was not hand picked by Elrond, but the Fellowship would have been lost without him.

His name was Bill, and his past is irrelevant. He was a gaunt pony when they found him, however, and Sam saw through the dirt, skin and bones and saw something he would be hard-pressed to find later on his journey. He saw a friend, and potential. The pony loved Sam, and was fiercely protective of the small hobbit. Most disagree, and say it was simply instinct, but they are wrong. It was not instinct. Bill chose to follow out of love for his master and out of obligation, a life-debt of sorts.

Bill was betrayed along the road. He was angry when Sam took off his bridle and allowed Strider to send him home. But he didn't know where home was. Home was wherever Sam had gone off to and now he was free, but free wasn't ideal. He was lonely, no one was ever around to rub his nose or feed him a spare apple and there wasn't much food on the mountainsides or on the road to Moria. He trotted on aimlessly for days before returning to Bree, but simply because of need. His stomach was empty and he was close to death. But he survived.

He wanted to see his Sam again.


	13. Remembering Him

_This is not about a warrior, but Arwen must fight her own battles while she waits for her beloved._

Forty times have the leaves of the trees turned golden and have fallen to the ground since I was betrothed to a man. I still remember him that day, his mysterious eyes in which all mystery was laid bare for my reading, his smile full of an emotion I cannot describe, his loving hands holding mine as he asked me to be his wife. It still stuns me and I find my mind reeling, but it seems inherently right. I laugh at the memory of a golden mallorn leaf stuck in his riotous curls that I brushed away right as I accepted. His glee was child-like and I fell in love him again.

Love is a difficult emotion. It simply is. I did not require him to be anything more than he was at the time, yet he is so much more. He is noble, valiant… everything he should be. I have never wished to be by his side more, yet one barrier still holds us back. Forty years used to mean nothing, yet now, I can feel every minute that slowly ticks by, as if it was some sort of slow torture, and I want to give up the information, but I simply do not know what it is. I love him. I always have, since the moment he called me Tinuviel. He seems to believe I have unsurpassed beauty and that every moment he has with me is precious, something that he locks away in his memory for the dreariest nights in the wilderness.

I have seen him age from a youth into a man of eighty-seven years. His skin is more tanned, his hair longer, his arms stronger, and his eyes more sorrowful. It pains me to see the distress and longing in his gray eyes. I wish to take it all away and soothe his pain away with a kiss and embrace, but it is not in my power to do so.

Forty years is a long time to a man constantly pressured by an unknown force. I simply hope I am worth the wait.

My father looks at me with such pain. It tears my heart in two, but the bigger half shall always remain Estel's. I shall always love my family, but I have a driving need to be with my beloved, for he is my delight, as I am his. His love is more precious than gems and all the wealth of Valinor. I do not think of what I shall miss by allowing mortality to become mine, for what I shall experience will be worth that and more.

I do not understand why my heart chose him, I only praise my heart's decision. Aragorn is all I have ever desired and so much more. I will be his and he will be mine. What a blessed day that shall be. Until then, however, waiting and remembering him shall suffice.


	14. The Road Goes Ever On

Frodo was tired. The exhaustion was forever in his bones, ailing him whenever he stepped out of bed, stood up from his chair, walked about in the familiar fields and on the familiar roads, as he had done in his tweens with his cousins. Memories of his quest were forever on the edges of his forethought and even the happiness of Sam's wedding could not take the sting away. Truly, he was happy for his friend, but something much deeper had a hold of him. How did you pick up an old life when you know somewhere deep within you that it can never be the same?

Frodo wandered about Bag End, looking over old maps, glancing through his journals of his memories of the quest, and he found he had to sit down on one of the chairs in the kitchen before he could go further. The weight of the Ring was no longer on his shoulders, but his heart was empty without it. He was glad it was gone and the world was free and that Elessar was on the throne, but the simple hobbit life was too simple. He was no longer apart of it. Sam had slid into his role as husband and father with great ease and it did Frodo well to see him so happy with the hobbit-lass of his dreams.

The former Ringbearer smiled as he recalled the words Sam had spoken before the eagles had saved them. He looked at the calendar on the wall and knew his place was no longer on Middle Earth.

_The Road goes ever on and on,_

_Down from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead the road has gone_

_And I will follow if I can._


	15. A Demon to Fight Alone

_This is just something I thought up. How would Legolas react if we're assuming he and the twins have been friends for a long time and they arrive with the message from Elrond and Arwen's banner?_

Legolas readied his bow, Aragorn by his side, as the strangers drew nearer. Through their travels of Middle Earth, he knew there was no telling what creatures would approach the army of Rohan in days as dark as these. His bow bent beneath his fingers, it was a testament to the power and finesse he attacked and killed with. With a battle so near, at the first sight of danger he would fire. Enemies beware.

The stoic elf did not release a sigh of relief, for it was not his way, but he was relieved nonetheless when it was Halbarad. Aragorn was on the edge, the fear and determination piling up beneath his tough face, and would need all those he loved near his side. He did not listen or bandy words with the mortals, but had his eye on two riders very close to Halbarad. They were hooded and cloaked, and the days of late had turned very dark and even the elf, whose sight was keen and precise even at night, could not see very far. Though he could not see their faces, there was something so familiar about them.

Legolas felt a slight smile come to his face. Elladan and Elrohir. Of course it was. He listened with intent at the message from Elrond, and his smile grew when the twins handed over a covered bundle. Arwen had shown him her work, and he had praised her heartily for the thought and for her skill. It had not done anything to ease her pain in knowing Aragorn would go to face Sauron himself, but his comfort was the only gift he had to give her.

"What are they here for, laddie?" Gimli asked softly, leaning heavily upon his axe.

"They are Aragorn's brothers, and they wish to be here with him. They know where he is headed." Legolas replied in the same quiet tone, his blue eyes dark with foreboding. He too knew the truth of the Mountain, and did not wish to enter it. They had lost Gandalf going through Moria. Who would they lose while traveling through the Paths of the Dead?

ooo

Legolas was dreading the Dimhult Road. He was an elf and did not like the caves. He would endure it for Aragorn and for Middle Earth if he had no other choice, but it did not mean he liked it. His heart was quailing with fear, but pride would not allow him to show it or speak of it, even with Aragorn or Gimli. It was a demon he was determined to fight alone, but it was one foe that he could not overcome on his own.

"Mellon nin." Legolas turned around smoothly. A small smile came to his face.

"Mae govannan." He nodded. "Elladan, it is good to see your face once more." The younger twin came out of a nearby tent after speaking with Aragorn. "Elrohir, you as well."

Elladan looked at Legolas, appraising him. "You dread our journey." He pointed out.

"Indeed." Elrohir agreed, leaning over to whisper loudly in his brother's ear. "I think he's terrified." His eyes were dancing with laughter. Humor was a method that had always helped Legolas in the past.

He gave a small smile for appreciated the attempt. "I am. I love the trees. Bare rock only represents evil beginnings." He felt a shiver dance up and down his spine. "I loathe what we shall meet."

Elladan put a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Do not be afraid. Nothing in there shall harm you. We're here." He said assuringly.

"After all we have been through together, what in our history has ever given me assurance that you will guard my back?" Legolas asked dryly.

"Well, there was that one time… wait…" Elrohir paused to think. "He actually has a point."

Elladan rolled his eyes at his brother. "Elrohir…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Legolas, do not fear the Dead. We have life, and they only want peace. They will not force us to join their ranks. You are too great for such a fate. This is my word, and as such is beyond contradiction. Do not let fear rule you, for anger breeds from fear, and from anger, pain." His voice became stronger and more intense as he continued to speak. "We will protect you, for you have done so for us countless times. Legolas. You are the greatest warrior Middle Earth has ever seen. Do NOT forget that."

Legolas was suddenly overcome by emotion and turned away to let his tears fall. Elladan and Elrohir stepped beside him and put their arms around him, letting him let go of his emotions there, so there was nothing to hide. So he could remain strong to battle the fear and the evil ones before the gates of Minas Tirith.


End file.
